


Falling into Truths

by Winterstar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, SteveTonyFest, Stonyfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas and Tony's seen too many battles, too many of his loved ones hurt. When he's about to give up, Steve invites him to go skating after a romantic carriage ride. Everything should be perfect, but things are not always as they seem.....</p><p>For the Stonyfest</p><p>For Starkresilience</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling into Truths

**Author's Note:**

> This started out going in one direction, took a turn, then another, and then another. I'm still not sure what it is. This is my 2014 entry for starkresilience for the Stonyfest!

The snow is like a lover both silent, and tender. Yet it does not yield its secrets, it keeps aloof and cold and distant. He watches as it falls around him like a miracle from the heavens, blanketing the wake of battle, the fires burning and consuming. He sees the last remnants within his memory and he's reminded of what he lost once upon a time.

This is not a peaceful night or a silent night. It is not even sacred, not to him. Damned if it is Christmas Eve. He never believed in fairy tales and folk stories. Hard science guided him and wrapped him in its strands of logic. But still he longs for the solace that belief might give him. He longs to hold it close and feel its comfort.

"Come back to bed." The voice does not assume his thoughts but at the same time knows his troubles.

“Go to sleep,” he whispers in return and thinks, maybe, just maybe he should take that drink.

The bed creaks and he knows he’s lost the battle. “Come to bed, Tony.”

“You know it’s my fault, all of it,” he says and lifts his hand to the glass, the long window of their bedroom that looks out on the cityscape with its glittering lights in the ethereal snow wisping about them. 

“What? The snow?” There’s a soft intake of breath; it might be a chuckle. “Don’t be silly, Tony.”

“No, the fires, the battles, the wars,” Tony says and he knows he’s being melodramatic and overly morose. There’s something else that is his fault. He cannot put his finger on it. He cannot remember what it is. It’s horrifying when he chances upon that thought.

The bed gives way and Steve is standing behind him, arms around him, bracing him, holding him, sheltering him from all the nightmares. “Now, you are being silly.”

He leans back, feeling the strength of Steve’s chest, his abdominals, his arms around him, embracing him. It feels right and good and gently wonderful. He rolls his head a bit, almost in surrender. Steve is right here, beside him – he has nothing to fear, nothing to dread. “No, I’m not. I invented so much of the technology, the means to kill. Even though I’m not manufacturing weapons anymore, my ideas, my technology invented modern warfare. The more I invent to save people, the more people die.” A fleeting thought _the more people I love get hurt_ whispers in his mind.

“That’s an over simplification of the truth, and you know it,” Steve says and holds on, even though the whirl of the storm threatens. 

“I have a lot to atone for,” Tony says and he realizes he’s being maudlin but it’s one of those days. The holidays always brings on his moods, and he hates the fact he ruins it for Steve.

Steve remains quiet for too long, and Tony wonders if he’s crossed the line, if Steve is going to pick up and leave. He should, Tony’s been nothing but a prick lately. When Steve brought home the Christmas tree, Tony only grumbled. When Steve planned the decorating party and the whole team ended up in the penthouse drunk on spiked eggnog and gloriously laughing and singing as they worked on the art of tree fashion, Tony snapped at Steve and quieted the entire room. When Steve offered Tony a small gift, Tony didn’t even open it. He only set it aside and walked away. 

Steve tolerated every dark mood Tony threw at him. 

Sometimes, Tony resented it. Sometimes he needed Steve to break, to despise him, to wish ill of him. Sometimes he needed the idea of a Steve who would crack and take a swing at him. Sometimes, he needed someone to tell him to stop the stupid shit. 

Instead Steve hangs on and waits. 

Tony would fight him, battle him with words, derisive and dividing, but he’s too exhausted from his self-imposed alienation to attempt to ward off a super soldier bent on his own destruction. 

“Come back to bed,” Steve says and thankfully, he doesn’t remind Tony that’s it’s Christmas. Tony surrenders only because of that fact and allows Steve to lead him back to their wide bed. 

Tony lies down and faces the windows, watches the flakes of snow falling, covering the city with silver ice. It’s so poetic to have snow on Christmas Eve. Everything should be perfect, but it’s not, and it never will be. Snow on Christmas is a fantasy, a child’s dream. He finds it ironic that he thinks of it as a childhood fairy tale, since he never believed in fairy tales, he never believed in Santa Claus.

His father didn’t have time for silly games, fantastical dreams of boyhood, or his son. Tony wonders how a man so brilliant and so incredibly creative could have cared less for the reality of wonder about him. 

A hand falls on his shoulder and he wants to shrug it away. It is this time of the year when ghosts of Christmas past come to haunt him. It is this time of the year when he remembers the drunken days of his youth and how he spent winters in the arms of lovers he cannot even remember their names, or faces, or even if their kisses were cold. He thinks they were cold, as ice, like daggers. 

“Tony.” The whisper is bright and beautiful – it rings the air like silver bells on sleigh rides. He flinches only a minuscule but enough that a super soldier perceives it. “Come.”

Tony turns over to watch as Steve climbs out of bed. He disappears into the bathroom and Tony hopes, for once, that Steve will allow him to wallow. Sometimes the damned need to wallow and sink into the seas of his own making is strong. He hears the water running in the sink and Steve brushing his teeth – at two o’clock in the morning. 

Even in his darkest depression, Tony cannot beg off from the need to know, the curiosity. He knows this is a fault. “Steve?”

Steve comes out of the ensuite bathroom and says, “Get dressed, we’re going out.”

“Hmm, it’s snowing, and the middle of the night,” Tony says.

“Yeah, I know,” he says and goes into their walk in closet. “Hurry up, we’ll miss our ride.”

“Ride?” Tony says and he hisses. Steve’s too smart for his own good, he knows Tony’s weakness for figuring out a mystery or a puzzle. He uses it sparingly, but when he does, it’s brilliant. Tony decides he’s going to back off from his need to know. “I don’t want to go out.”

“Too bad, you’re going,” Steve says and appears with his jeans on and a long sleeved reindeer decorated t-shirt. It looks ridiculous. It’s also too small. Tony bought it for him as a gag gift – Steve doesn’t seem to understand the concept of gag gift. He shrugs on a thick winter coat he’s holding and then digs out mittens of all the god damned things in the world. “Hurry up, or else you’ll end up in your skivvies.” 

Tony looks at the bleak landscape of snow, and metal, and thick darkened clouds outside the penthouse windows. He can see phantom fires burning low and heated as if they really do exist. Why try, when everything always explodes and he turns into the devil. He cannot escape his legacy of the merchant of death.

“Come on,” Steve says and grabs his hand to hoist him to his feet. “I’m getting too hot in this get up, let’s snap to it.”

He shoves Tony into the bathroom and waits, staring him down. 

“Fine, if I die of exposure, it’s your fault.”

“Duly noted,” Steve says and goes back into the bedroom. 

Once Tony finishes up in the bathroom, he joins Steve in the bedroom to find his clothes laid out for him including a coat, a hat, and gloves – none of which he actually owns. “Where’d this come from?”

“L.L.Bean,” Steve says and crosses his arms and waits.

Tony sighs and, when he looks out into the night, he shivers. “It’s cold.”

“Don’t I know it,” Steve returns and presses his lips together in a grimace. 

Tony resents his ass right now, well not his ass, but the fact no one can complain about the cold around Steve because of the whole ice thing. Crappers he could have frostbite and he couldn’t complain. Once Hawkeye ended up with a touch of frostbite after a mission and he never even winced because of Steve.

“Okay, okay,” Tony says and dutifully gets dressed. He stands there with his new coat on and his thick gloves but he refuses the hat. “I will not get hat hair.”

“To each his own,” Steve says and pulls on a hat of his own, then tucks Tony’s in his pocket. “JARVIS?”

“Your ride awaits, Captain Rogers.”

“Traitor,” Tony says and drags his feet to follow Steve. He doesn’t want to go, he’ll admit that. Right now, he’d much rather continue his need to review and hate every little fucking thing he’s done in his life. He might actually get reacquainted with a bottle of Scotch.

Steve ignores his grumbles and they ride the elevator down to the lobby. Instead of going down to the parking garage and out the back way that avoids crowds, Steve leads him across the open, empty lobby. He waves at the security guard who smiles and toasts him with a mug of coffee.

“Good night, Captain,” the man says and the doors automatically open for them.

Waiting outside in the snow covered street is a horse and carriage. The driver smiles as Steve greets him. “All ready for you Captain.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Steve says and Tony stands there, motionless, stunned, and a little stupefied. 

“What?”

“We’re going on a ride,” Steve says and leads Tony to the side to help him up. He literally could climb up into the open buggy if he could think, but his mind is as frozen as the glittering snow about him. “Up we go.” Steve gets him onto the leather seat and then closes the small door to the carriage. 

He pulls a blanket – wool and red and green plaid from beneath the bench and covers Tony with it. 

“The drinks are in the locker in the front,” the driver says and snaps the reins. The horse clomps forward down the deserted street. That’s when Tony hears the sleigh bells jiggling.

“Want some hot chocolate?” Steve says as the snow continue to flicker about them. It’s considerably lighter now, just a few stray flakes. 

“I-.” Tony looks around as the horse strides up the street and the few passing cars slow as they continue on their journey. “Just what are we doing?”

“Going for a ride, a sleigh ride, but it’s not really a sleigh if it has wheels. But this is the best I could do, then we’re going ice skating,” Steve says with a smile. He squeezes Tony’s knee through the blanket. He smiles. “Remember I love you.”

That’s intentional manipulation and Tony’s not falling for it. “I don’t want to go ice skating,” Tony says and glares at Steve. He misses the entire purpose of the glare because he only kisses Tony’s nose and then gives Tony a thermos of hot chocolate. 

“It has marshmallows,” Steve says with a smile and continues to watch as the snow flutters around them.

Tony begrudgingly and because he’s actually a little cold, drinks. It’s delicious and warm so he sinks back into the seat cushions and tugs up the blanket to glower at Steve. He only wanted to consider the waste of his life. Why does Steve have to do this?

“Because I love you,” Steve says but doesn’t look at him, he’s busy being happy and joyful with the whole holiday season.

“Don’t do that, don’t read my mind,” Tony says.

“It’s not like I need magical powers to do it, Tony. It’s pretty easy to figure out,” Steve says and finally reclines against the seat. “You need to stop that brain sometimes.”

“I was fine.”

“You were not,” Steve says. “As we approached the holiday season, I watched you. I saw- I’m not stupid or unobservant. I know you’re depressed.”

“I am not depressed, I’m happiness challenged,” Tony says. He sighs. “And can you blame me? Have you seen the state of the world, lately? It sucks. No matter what we do, it comes down to who has the biggest guns, who can shock and destroy with the most grotesque methods. It comes down to the fact I have to be the merchant of death to stop all the death.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Steve says. He sniffles. His nose is red with the cold. His eyes sparkle in the snowy light. “I get what you’re saying, I do.” He pauses and looks down at his hot chocolate and Tony spies only a small quaver run through him. He sits up to watch Steve. “I thought when I put that ship down, when I flew Red Skull’s plane into the ice that the world would change.” He laughs a little, but it’s a heartbroken sound. “Sure it changed, lots of change, but people don’t learn. They learn things to do that are terrible to one another, they keep doing these things, and you think, no matter how hard I fight it won’t matter.

“I’ll still have to fight tomorrow.”

Tony nods and sips the chocolate again. “Then why all the cheer and goodwill?”

“Why not?” Steve says. “If we don’t, then they win. I know it hurts sometimes, God, I know it does. It burns like ice can. But I won’t let them steal another moment of my life. I’m dedicated to a better world, not their world.”

“Isn’t it our world, too, I mean have we contributed to the chaos, the violence?” Tony says. Because after all is said and done, Tony knows in his bones and his hollowed out chest, that he’s particularly responsible for the escalation of violence – how could he not be? He baits terrorists, he invents weapons under the guise of defense. He hurts the people he loves. This hits shockingly close to the reason for his mood, he bites back his fear – because in the end it is all about fear.

“Maybe,” Steve says. “But I can’t lie down and let the violence and evil in this world overtake me. That will never happen.”

“Could we stop it-.”

“No,” Steve says and just like that it’s not up for debate. “I saw what happens when you try and stop it before he starts. Who decides who is the spider and who is the fly? That’s the problem with deterrence. Someone has to sit at the trigger and there’s no consensus who that should be.”

“If this is supposed to make me feel better, it isn’t working,” Tony says and places the thermos in the little ringed holder. In the end, Tony always fails the ones he loves the most.

“No,” Steve says. “But this will.”

They arrive at Rockefeller Center. The horse stops and Steve jumps down, and opens the door up for Tony. When he offers a hand down, Tony slaps at him and frowns only to have Steve chuckle.

“Come on, we have the rink all to ourselves,” Steve says and grabs his hand with his mitten one to haul him to the rink. There’s man waiting for them with skates and a smile.

“You planned this,” Tony says.

“No, these people are just appearing like Santa’s elves to help us,” Steve says and ties on his skates. 

Tony takes his time and swears under his breath a lot only to the amusement of Steve, who never fails to smile any time Tony looks at him. It’s ridiculous and it’s making him giddy, and he does not want to be giddy. 

“Come on,” Steve says. “They still have to clean the rink for tomorrow. We only have an hour.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Maybe?” Steve smiles _again_ and drags Tony out onto the ice. They make it until about the middle of the rink and then promptly both fall on their asses. “Ouch.”

“Ouch, you say ouch. What the hell was that, I thought you were leading and helping. You are trying to kill me,” Tony says. He wobbles on his skates; he’s never actually skated before but it feels a little like the first time he took flight in the jerry-rigged Iron Man armor he made from parts in a cave. It’s exhilarating but terrifying at the same time.

Steve is splayed out on the ice and carefully clamors to his blades again, slipping all over the place like Captain America on drugs or some shit. With a little scooting, he’s able to stand up but he’s not straight at all, and keeps flapping his arms around like a drunk duck. 

“You’ve never done this before?” Tony says and crosses his arms – which is dangerous considering he’s unsure on his own skates.

“Sure I have, I just didn’t have the bulk before,” Steve says and inches over to the side. He hangs on for dear life.

“Bulk? What?” It strikes Tony. “Wow, you like haven’t skated since before Project Rebirth. I’d’ve thought it would come natural to you.”

Steve scowls at him and tries to skate out to the center without much grace. “It’s not like anything came naturally with this, you know. I had to relearn a lot.”

It never occurred to Tony that Steve would have felt uncomfortable in his new body. He’d always assumed it was a celebration. “Okay then,” he says, because this is a problem he can solve. This is something important. Steve needs to learn how to skate. You never know when there will be half crazed figure skaters on a rampage somewhere. He skids in front of Steve and grabs onto him. For some reason, Tony suddenly feels completely natural on the ice.

They tumble to the ice, but Tony jostles Steve back to his blades and they are up again, using each other as crutches and gingerly fishing their way around the rink. Captain America clings at Tony with a particular vehemence he’d never have guessed at. “You don’t like skating.”

“Nope, not much,” Steve says and pushes forward only to judder to a stop. Tony eases them a few more meters, it’s getting easier for him. It’s like dancing. 

“It’s like dancing you know,” Tony says and glides outward and reaches for Steve to haul him along the ice. The usual grace and speed is gone, disappeared from the Captain and he’s stretched out trying to capture Tony’s hand so he doesn’t completely collapse onto the shiny surface.

“I don’t dance,” Steve says just as he splats onto the ice again.

“That’s obvious to the most casual of observers,” Tony says as Steve glowers at him. “Hey. This was your idea, Capsicle.”

“I thought you would like it,” Steve says and manages to get back on his skates only to glide to the side of the rink. He crab crawls along the side to get back to the start again. “I thought it might be fun.” He sounds off, slightly angry. “You let me fall.”

“Steve, it’s not a big deal,” Tony says and glides over to him as he staggers out of the rink. He hadn’t let Steve fall. He hadn’t. He’s sure of it. Why would he do that? “Come on, we can go one around.” He watches as Steve plops down on the bench and starts to unlace his skates.

“No, you don’t want to, I thought it would be nice. I thought you might like it. Bring back memories of your childhood or good Christmases past.”

That startles Tony and he admits he should have repressed his initial reaction. But this is a skillset that Tony has not acquired. “Good memories, you mean with my father who was too busy trying to blow up the rest of the world or, in his free time, look for you?”

Steve tears off his skates as Tony sits down and decides this is a bust and takes his off too. 

“You mean like the Christmases I spent with Jarvis, oh, the real Jarvis because my parents were busy somewhere else – places I don’t even fucking know about. Or when my mother just stayed in her room crying because my father didn’t-.”

Steve holds up his hands and says, “Okay, I get it. Christmas sucked and you hated it. Fine, fine. We’ll go back to the Tower.”

And they do, but not before the attendant tries his best to cheer them up, to get them back on the ice. Steve only shakes his head and says, “I don’t know how to dance- skate, skate I mean. I don’t know how.” 

They get back into the carriage and the horse clops down the street. It’s awkward and stupid and Tony needs to learn when to just be happy he has someone now, instead of constantly circling back to the hell of what his life was like before. Everything changed –but he still knows a lot hasn’t and he gets himself tangled up in all that hasn’t changed and what he still has to achieve and he lets the weight of the world crush his shoulders and his heart, and look what he fucking did to Steve.

When they get to the Tower, Steve thanks the driver and hands off an envelope. The driver smiles and winks at Steve, and then he’s clicking to the horse to start away. Steve watches him for a moment, before he heads back to the Tower. Tony stays put. When Steve realizes Tony hasn’t joined him, he turns from the door and says, “Are you coming, it’s cold?”

“In a minute?”

Steve regards him for a moment, then nods and opens the door. He enters the building without a word. 

The snow is starting up again, stronger than before, reminding Tony that he’s only a pinpoint in the forces of Nature. He doesn’t amount to much. As he stands there, a little too cold, a lot confused a small hunched figure approaches him.

He thinks he should probably go back into the Tower. He doesn’t know who this person is. But when she looks up at him, he stops. Her eyes are like crystals; her hands when they touch him are icicles. Her smiles is blood red against the white of the snow. 

He should pull away, but he doesn’t. He stays still as she grasps his hand – and where did his gloves go? Touches him and says, “It is not possible to save the world, if you do not save yourself first.”

“That’s trite,” he says because he wants something profound from the little goblin in front of him.

She smiles – her grin is toothless, her eyes reflect fire. “Is it? You tell me, have you nurtured or hurt? Have you let someone help you, or not? Who are you Anthony? Who do you want to become?”

“That’s rich, I’m a grown man, I know who I am,” he says, and wants to pull his hand away, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask how she knows his name. 

“No one knows until the end who they are. It changes. Will you be who you want to be, or will you turn away from him and turn away from the possibilities?”

“You’re nuts.”

“Possibly.” She cackles and then shifts away from him. In the echo of the storm he hears her say, “Don’t let him fall again.” The snow continues in thick showers around him. He cannot make out her figure, he steps toward where he last saw her and crashes into a bulky form. 

“Tony, what are you doing? You’re going to freeze to death. Where is your coat and gloves?” Steve asks because he’s suddenly in front of Tony again.

He looks around. “There was a lady, an old lady.” He’s terrified of what she said, though he doesn’t know why.

“Okay, whatever, come on,” Steve says and hustles him into the Tower. Steve pushes him back into the lobby and they end up in the elevator with JARVIS moving them up to the penthouse. 

As they arrive, Tony asks, “I think, I think I might have hurt you.” His words are hesitant and stick in his throat, but he forces them out.

“Maybe,” Steve says and leads them back into the penthouse. There’s a tree, all light and beauty in the corner near the large window. Steve doesn’t stop or explain his answer, he only removes his boots, his outerwear, and tosses it to the side. 

“I didn’t mean to?” Tony says and he can’t even say that without ruining it with a little question at the end.

“Either you meant to or you didn’t Tony.” Steve skips down the few steps and goes to the kitchen. Tony follows, he doesn’t know what else to do. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. The old lady said I hurt you,” Tony says and cannot remember giving his coat and gloves to the woman. “I think she might have robbed me.” He’s curiously okay with Jack Frost’s old Grammy stealing from him. 

“Are you looking for sympathy on that one?” Steve says and faces Tony. For the first time he gets a good look at Steve. His expression wars with anger, hurt, loss, and a bit of confusion as well. “Because I’ve got none of that left.”

“Okay, okay, I fucked up but what do you expect. Dragging me out when all I wanted to do-.”

“Was wallow, yeah, I know,” Steve says. “I’ve been there, I’ve done it. It doesn’t work for anyone. Just remember, I love you, even if you let me fall.”

Fall.

Why does that word dig into him like ice? Tony walks out of the kitchen and finds his way to the window again, in their bedroom where this whole fiasco began. He crosses his arms and stares out, gazing at the snow as it whirls around in the air currents high above the city. “What the hell am I doing?”

“Damned if I know,” Steve says and he’s sitting on the bed. He’s in his boxers. “Come back to bed.”

“What?” Tony says. “You’re not angry with me?”

“For waking up and having a nightmare, no, why would I be?” Steve rubs at his eyes as if he’s only just awoken himself. “I have them all the time. You know, being trapped in ice for seventy years, finding out your best friend is an assassin and still alive – well it will do that to you.”

“But the ice skating thing? The carriage ride?”

“What? You want to go ice skating? It’s kind of late and I don’t know if Rockefeller Center is open at what 2:30 in the morning, Tony.”

“We just- we just came?” Tony looks down and realizes he’s in his boxers as well. “Oh, damn.”

“What?” Steve stands up and rubs at his eye, then encircles Tony with his arms. “Time for bed.”

He’s kissing light touches and caresses along Tony’s neck and down to his shoulders. “Come on, I hate the cold. Come warm me up.”

“You don’t want to go ice skating then?” Tony asks.

“Nope, never learned, too much like dancing,” Steve continues his attention to Tony’s neck making his skin heat and prickle with longing. 

“Dancing?”

“Don’t dance, never knew how.” He’s murmuring into Tony’s shoulder, slowly directing him back to the bed. 

“Maybe it’s time to fix that,” Tony says and they fall in a jumble onto the bed. He takes up the challenge and encompassing Steve with his kisses, his caresses, his lips and tongue and hands, all over, exploring, feeling, sharing. 

“You got over your mood.”

He doesn’t challenge Steve, he only agrees. “Yeah, I decided to focus on what I have instead of what-.”

“You lost?” Steve says. “I know that feeling.”

“I was, I was going to say what I was,” Tony says. “You make me a better man. Whatever I’m doing, however I’m doing it. As long as I’m with you, I know I’m better man because of you.” 

“Tony, you were a better man before I came along,” Steve says and props himself up on a bent arm and looks down at Tony. 

“You forget, you were always part of my life,” Tony says and reaches up to push away the fringe of hair on Steve’s forehead. 

“Not a welcomed part, according to some of the stories you’ve told,” Steve says. It isn’t malicious or harsh, just playful and soft.

“It’s Christmas,” Tony says, redirecting because that’s what he’s good at.

“Oh,” Steve says and peers up at the clock on the nightstand. “I’ll be right back.” He jumps up. He pads across the floor of their bedroom and, before he leaves, he hangs at the door. “I really do love you, you know.”

“I know,” Tony says.

“Next time you see me, remind me.” Steve leaves without explanation. 

Tony grimaces and sits up. “What?” Staring at the empty space in the doorway that Steve vacated, Tony shakes his head. “Steve?”

“Sir?”

“JARVIS? What? What the hell did Steve mean?”

“I’m sorry sir, I am not sure what you are referring to?”

It is then he realizes the bed is cold, and the lights in the city are muted by the long dead of Autumn turned to a frigid winter. And Steve isn’t in his bed, hasn’t been in his bed since they encountered the real Mandarin – not Killian and his demented ideas of world domination, but the real deal. 

Steve took the hit, to save Tony. He took it and he fell. 

Tony scuffles out of his room, pulling on his jeans and picking at the sleep in his eyes. All of that just a whispered dream, a dream within a dream. He chuckles and it’s harsh and foreboding. Maybe the hit Steve took was just a dream too, maybe Tony’s been in some kind of dream fugue for weeks. 

“JARVIS, where’s Steve?”

“Captain Rogers is in the living room.”

“What’s he doing?”

“He is currently looking at the Christmas tree.”

“Is anyone with him?”

“No.”

Damn it to hell and back. He told everyone not to leave Steve alone, not now, not like this. Before he starts toward the living room, he stops and says, “JARVIS am I awake this time?”

“Sir, you awoke about five minutes ago after muttering in your sleep for about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay,” Tony says. He sure the hell hopes that his dreams haven’t been hijacked. He winds his way toward the common room of the penthouse to find Steve sitting exactly where JARVIS said he would be. “Steve.”

Steve doesn’t move. He only gazes at the tree. He’s had a shock to his system. Tony relives the fall each and every moment of the day – because he couldn’t get there on time, he couldn’t fly fast enough or get Thor or Falcon to respond any faster. He took a hit for Tony and then he fell. Steve fell.

And died.

For a good few minutes he was dead. But somehow, by some miracle of the serum, he revived, and then sunk into a coma. When he awoke from the coma, they thought he would be healed, but he isn’t. He’s like this. Solitary, painfully quiet, as if he is a computer processing information and the icon keeps spinning waiting to load. 

“Steve?” He waits and Steve doesn’t answer. He only stares at the tree.

Tony steps down the few stairs and joins Steve on the couch. He’d wanted this Christmas to be something special. He wanted this Christmas to be one he could remember and rejoice about – but it’s falling into the same bucket all the past ones have been in. He hates the holidays for good reason. 

“You like the tree?” Even he thinks his attempts at conversation are idiotic. The doctors said that it would take time. Steve’s brain needed to heal. They’d never seen anyone fall from such a height and survive. The jelly the side of his head had been led everyone to believe he couldn’t possibly survive. 

The fact he’s sitting up, with little visible damage is a freak ass miracle. Tony wants the miracle to be something more than just a breathing, nearly catatonic Captain America. 

“Do you want some eggnog? I think Clint made some?” Tony says and he climbs to his feet. He goes to the bar and opens the fridge. The eggnog is tucked into the corner, and Tony retrieves it with some glasses. It’s spiked from earlier when they all tried to pretend everything was okay. That they were a whole team even with a ghost for a Captain.

Maybe that’s why a phantom Steve is visiting Tony in his dreams, decorating trees, giving Tony gifts, taking him skating, going on romantic carriage rides. He sets the drink in front of Steve on the coffee table. “Do you like skating?”

Steve turns and looks at Tony. He hasn’t said a word since he woke up from the coma. He squints at Tony as if he’s trying very hard to figure out what Tony said. He looks around him, through him, not at him. It’s unnerving. For only a second, he opens his mouth, but then decides against it and closes it. He turns back to the tree.

This was supposed to be a special Christmas, but instead Tony’s watching the man that he loves deteriorate in front of him. He settles onto the couch and lays back staring at the ceiling. He wants to wake up from this dream. But something tells him that his mind isn’t playing tricks on him anymore. This is real. Steve – like this- is real.

“You know,” Tony says and doesn’t even have a plan. The lights of the Christmas tree give everything a soft glow like they are all stuck in amber. “You know, I had this really weird dream.”

Steve doesn’t reply.

“It was like that movie, Inception, but only not as exciting. But it still was like a dream within a dream.” Tony gazes at Steve who is in profile to him. He still looks so handsome, so wonderful. Yet so far distant. Tony doesn’t wait for an answer. “You wanted to go skating, and then you didn’t. I met a crazy ice old lady who stole my coat and gloves. And then you told me to remind you.”

Steve turns at that statement, tilting his head – almost like he understands.

“You told me to remind you that you love me.”

It isn’t magical. Steve doesn’t suddenly jump up and kiss Tony. He only blinks and raises his eyebrows as if to say that’s ridiculous. It makes Tony laugh. Something he hasn’t done in weeks. “Yeah, I know, sorry piece of shit I would be to love.”

The laughter drains out of him like wind lost from sails and he breathes a few times just to clear his head. Finally, he stands up and says, “Come on let’s get you to bed.” He ignores the untouched eggnog.

Steve lets him take his hand and lead him to their bedroom. He tucks him into the bed, and then Tony sidles into the bed as well. Steve hasn’t slept with him since the fall. They’ve been keeping vigil, watching him in his bedroom. But Tony will be damned if on Christmas Eve he sleeps alone. Feeling awkward and uncomfortable in his own skin, he sleeps and does not dream. He doesn’t know if he should be happy about that.

As he opens his eyes to awareness he feels a single finger line the curve of his shoulder. He stays perfectly still. It has been too long since Steve even tried to touch him. This is the first sign of interaction Steve has shown. He waits. The finger trails downward and ends at his hand, touching it, and then going back up. The finger disappears and Tony exhales but feels its loss bitterly. 

“You’re right,” Steve says. His voice sounds tired, ill, almost worn thin from disuse. 

Tony turns over – so very worried that this is another dream. It isn’t. Steve’s eyes are tired, his face overly thin from the time in the coma. He needs to catch up on calories. 

He chances it. “I’m right?”

Steve smiles. It hurts because it isn’t overly joyful but tentative and hopeful. “I love you.”

And Tony couldn’t care less how far they have to go, or how many more steps they have to take, because this is all that matters. He reaches out, almost begging with his eyes, and Steve folds his hand over Tony’s to clasp it to his cheek. 

“I love you,” Steve repeats. “I know this much is true.”

“I love you, too.”

There’s more to be said, there’s more struggles and battles to win, but right now with Steve close and truths spoken, Tony thinks that this might be the best of his Christmases yet.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com) if you'd like!
> 
> Well, you tell me - what do you think it's all about??


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